the sound of silence

The sound of silence keeps me awake at night. I hear with my eyes and see with my ears. I cannot keep still even if I try to force myself. I have trouble staying awake, trouble falling asleep. I’m never hungry but feel as if my stomach is empty all the time. I keep thinking about people that had lived in 13th century. I don’t know what is the connection to my daily life with these thoughts but I certainly know they affect me in some way. I have some wild ideas and fantasies but still something prevents me from writing them all down. Something prevents me from writing at all. My keyboard has failed me. My thoughts have disappeared into sleepless nights and empty expressions. At night I can hear the rain on my windows, I can hear my mother wake up to go to the bathroom; I can feel the cold of early hours as they slowly tick closer announcing the end of the world. I can feel and absorb everything at night, but almost nothing stays in my memory. I forget everything. But I try to listen. I listen to the silence. It is the louder silence I have ever heard. Because it is mine. It has been with me for as long as I could remember. It has been depriving me of my sleep since 1969.

this an introduction to my new short (non)fiction story, which i have been writing for the past weeks now. but i’m unable to finish it because it never seems like a good time to start. it was supposed to be a memoir, then i decided to write it as an fictional diary entry, then i realized it was more like a piece of writing from a novel of some russian author. and now it just ended up here i opened it by accident on my computer and decided it was time to post it as it is.

because the initial idea and purpose of this writing is lost forever.

you’re a little out of space,

not here, aren’t you? i pretended i didn’t see him from distance. i looked surprised when he spoke. he tried to smile but couldn’t. i put up a wall around me. no more smiling.

no, it’s nothing, i said and went to the bathroom.

i did not want to talk to him because he just pissed me off last time. and then we went home at midnight. a little bit early, oliver laughed. mom took my hand and pushed me to move. yeah, i know.

i got up at two in the afternoon. i felt as if someone stepped on my face. i watched an episode of house, and two episodes of felicity because all of a sudden i realized i missed that show.

i went to ikea with my mother. and that was it. that was my saturday. i thought it was going to be more fun but i guess not everyday can look like a wednesday night at maria’s.

she said see you later boy

could you love me? he asked. i looked at him in amazement. yes, i said because i was drunk. sort of. later in the morning, when i woke up to go to school, i opened up my inbox. you’ve got mail. all it read was good morning! i tried to recall last night but all i could think of was a letter that i wrote in the middle of the night. i almost felt sorry because it wasn’t meant for him. oliver. maybe in another lifetime.

today was a really long day. but thanks to the email i recieved in the morning it passed by quickly. i had classes until five pm. but i couldn’t stop smiling. i smiled all day long, people around me did not understand. and i do not want them to. why should they? they cannot.

last night at least ten of my professors were at the same bar as me, shooting pool. it felt strange but then i realized i couldn’t care less. it’s my life. another story. before they left they waved at me from the distance. when i looked at them from the back, i realized they weren’t capable of walking in a straight line. i had to laugh. my professors.

the band played my cherie amour for me again. they must be fucking tired of that song. but i know i’m not. it’s always the same story, the same looks, the same dancing and smiles. i found myself a paradise but every time it just kicks me as if to remind me that there’s a certain reality to which i have to go back. but it’s worth it each time.

i can see it on your face that you have a problem.


cultural sanitary napkin: amateour photographs of daily life in hong kong by janice tsui.

shoes and crackhouses

good morning, hong kong.

i managed to fall asleep at two o’clock in the morning last night. and i woke up just now, almost six hours later. i can feel the lack of sleep affecting my whole body. coffee is not enough.

i am reminded of the time when i had no school and stayed at home for months watching tv shows not living in the real world. i felt the same as i feel now. the only difference is that i’m much happier.

how does one describe happiness? you just smile. the last entry probably doesn’t say much but it explains a lot.

tomorrow, my friends are coming to town.

you don’t think you have the voice?

We always meet people all around us
often we can try to speak with them
sometimes we get on well with them
occasionally we know their names
rarely we hug them.

my memory of you is going to last. others just won’t. have you told him that you miss him? no. that’s why you are alone. no, it’s because i’m always expecting a dissapointment. even now. you’re a pessimist. no. yeah, maybe.


with how many people are you able to sit in a complete silence?